


Sort Of But Not Really (Proper Family Christmas)

by WolfieOnAO3



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adoptive Parents - Freeform, Christmas, Crowley is a good dad, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Family, Fluff, M/M, good omens - Freeform, tv universe, warlock dowling protection squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfieOnAO3/pseuds/WolfieOnAO3
Summary: Christmas, a year after Armageddon, with Warlock.TV Show canon and characterisations. Shameless domestic/family fluff for Christmas.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 99





	Sort Of But Not Really (Proper Family Christmas)

“Come on, come on, come on  _ come ON!”  _

Crowley stormed through the bookshop like a whirlwind.

It had been a year and five months since the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t, and the streets of London were once again filled with chaos and panic.

“We need to get  _ out of here!” _ Crowley barked, gesticulating wildly and urgently trying to usher the stragglers towards the door.

Aziraphale twisted his indulgent pout into an equally indulgent smile. 

“My dear, there is no need to rush, we have plenty of time...”

Well, one _particular_ bookshop on one _particular_ London street was in chaos, anyway. 

“Plenty of time?!” Crowley scoffed, managing to fit about ten syllables into the noise. “It is,” he said, looking at his ridiculously expensive watch, “eleven-thirty-five already. Do you know what time we are supposed to be down there to get the keys? One o’clock. Do you know how  _ long _ it takes to drive to Chichester?  _ An hour and fifty minutes _ . And  _ that’s _ if the  _ traffic _ isn’t bad...”

“Crowley, it’s a Tuesday morning, why on earth would the traffic be bad? And it’s  _ fine _ , I can call Ms Rowe on your portable telephone and notify her if we are going to be late. It won’t be a problem. She said she would be around all day.”

Crowley groaned dramatically, putting his whole body into it. “ _ Uuuuughhh _ we wouldn’t  _ have _ to call her if we could Just. Leave. On.  _ Time!” _

Aziraphale wandered off towards the stairs leading up to the flat above, shaking his head and paying no heed to Crowley’s complaining.

“Literally might as well be talking to the wall. Get more sense from the wall. Get better conversation from the wall… You’ll be the one complaining when I have to drive fast to get there on time!”

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed, looking around the room for anything he could do to speed up proceedings. 

He caught sight of a mop of black hair peeking out over the top of the sofa.

“ _ Oi!” _ Crowley snapped, marching over to the settee with purpose. “You!”

Warlock looked up from his Nintendo game with a grin. 

“Hey, Nanny!” he said with the easy breeziness he’d learned from Hell’s coolest Demon. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?  _ What’s up?! _ I’ll give you  _ ‘what’s up _ ’... Where’s your rucksack? Hm? Is it in the car? Or is it open with its contents strewn over the floor?”

“I wanted to play Nintendogs,” Warlock replied with a shrug, as if that were a completely acceptable explanation.

“Oh for God’s- for Satans- For fu-...  _ Aziraphale!” _

Aziraphale’s head poked around the corner.

“Yes, dear?”

“Tell him to put his stuff in the car.”

“Warlock, my lad, would you be so kind as to put your things into the Bentley before he has an aneurism?”

Warlock grinned. “Sure.”

“Oh, you’ll listen to  _ him, _ ” Crowley grumbled.

“Well  _ he  _ asked nicely,” Warlock said with a cheeky smirk as he bounced up off of the sofa and began stuffing his things back into his bag.

Crowley poked his tongue into the inside of his cheek as he tried not to laugh.  _ Little bastard. _

“Nanny, tell me a story.”

“Tell you a- What do you think is happening here? Why does everyone in this bloody bookshop seem to assume we have all the time in the world? Did we get given an extra hour in the day that I haven’t been told about? We need to  _ leave. _ ”

“I bet I’ll pack faster if you tell me a story.”

“Oh, will you now?”

“Yeah, ‘coz if I’m just left to my own devices, I might get bored, and then I might get distracted or something. Who knows?”

Crowley glared at the kid, torn between being infuriated and impressed. He’d taught him well.

“Okay. Fine. Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Warlock who wouldn’t put his bags in the car fast enough, and then a giant tiger leapt through the window and ate him. The end. Now _ pack _ .”

Warlock scowled.

“That was  _ not _ a good story, Nanny. For starters, there are no tigers in London, ‘cept in the Zoo, and that tiger didn’t look up to leaping at anyone, it looked like all it wanted to do was sleep an’ wait for the keepers to throw him a McDonalds.”

“Well this tiger isn’t from the zoo, he’s from… Wherever tigers are from. Where are tigers from? Africa? Or is that lions? Do lions and tigers mix? I know there are Ligers, so one would assume…” Crowley trailed off, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. This tiger is a hungry, angry, energetic tiger who’s favourite food is twelve year olds who haven’t put their bags in the Bentley!”

Warlock thought about this.

“If his favourite food is kids what haven’t put their bags in your Bentley, then there’s  _ loads _ a food for him  _ everywhere _ . I bet there’re thousandsa kids just ‘round here whose bags aren’t in your Bentley.  _ Therefore  _ it’s  _ statistically unlikely  _ that outta alla those children the tiger would end up eating  _ me _ .”

For about the millionth time, Crowley found himself resenting the fact that the child had such a partiality to mathematic thinking.

“Yeah he would,” Crowley retorted, “‘because I called him up and invited him round here specifically. In fact, he’ll be arriving in, oh, about ten minutes? So you’d better get packing so we can head off before he arrives. Don’t want to have to explain to your dad why I let his son get eaten by a tiger. That’d be a  _ very _ awkward conversation.” 

Crowley extended his thumb and little finger and held them up to his ear. 

_ ‘Oh, hello Mr Dowling, how are you today? Yes, everything is fine, absolutely tickety-boo. Eeeeeexcept that Warlock got eaten by a tiger. Yes, such a tragedy. Gave the tiger terrible indigestion. Merry Christmas, by the way!’” _

Warlock giggled. 

“Dunno why you are laughing, matey-boy. S’a serious matter, tigers, and- ” Crowley froze, holding a finger in the air. “Shhhh...” he hissed with a sense of urgency. 

Warlock looked up at him wide-eyed. “What?” 

“I thought I heard-” Crowley gasped, clasping a hand to his throat. “Oh no. Oh  _ no _ . Oh,  _ no, no, no, no no… _ ”

“What?!”

“I think…. Is it? Could it be…? It is! The tiger’s here! Run!”

Rushing forward, Crowley scooped Warlock up in his arms. Turning him half-upside down he began swinging the kid around erratically.

“Ahhhh the tiger’s got him! Help! Help! Warlock’s being eaten by a tiger! He’s shaking him like a ragdoll, oh the humanity!” 

“Get off me, you’re crazy!” Warlock said through peals of laughter.

“Argh, no, the tiger doesn’t understand English! We’ll never save him now, he’s a goner! What a tragedy! So young to be tiger-food!” 

“Nice to see the _ packing  _ is coming along well,” Aziraphale said from behind them.

Crowley abruptly stopped the tiger attack and unceremoniously dumped Warlock onto the sofa in a heap. 

He pointed his finger at the boy sternly.

“And don’t do it again,” he said. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, young man.”

Warlock just kept giggling.

“Ah, angel,” Crowley said, turning to face Aziraphale, face carefully aligned into a picture of clueless innocence, “didn’t see you there. Everything ready to go?”

Aziraphale folded his arms and smiled.

“What?” Crowley said.

“Nothing,” Aziraphale answered, his smile broadening, making his eyes crinkle at the edges and making Crowley’s heart skip about a bit. “I’ve got everything out by the door. We just have to put it in the Bentley and we’ll be good to go.”

Crowley grinned. “Glad to hear it. Might actually make it down there on time at this rate... The kid’s stuff is nearly sorted, too-” 

He glanced over at the pile of clothes and miscellania scattered on the floor around Warlock’s rucksack and pulled a bit of a face,

“...Doesn’t  _ look  _ like it is, but it’s pretty much there.” Crowley lowered his voice. “He hasn’t got much with him though. Somehow I think  _ Dear Mummy and Daddy  _ had more  _ important  _ things to deal with this week to be  _ inconvenienced  _ with making sure their  _ son _ had a properly packed suitcase.”

Aziraphale frowned, darting a glance at the little boy sitting on the sofa and tapping away at his phone. “Hmmm...” He looked back to Crowley with a concerned expression. “We will be able to purchase anything he needs, though, if necessary?”

“Yeah, I’m sure we will, angel, don’t worry about it. Kid’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. It’ll be good.”

“It  _ is _ going to be rather nice, isn’t it?” Aziraphale chirped happily, concerns immediately alleviated by the demon’s assertions. “Christmas on the South Downs, just the three of us. Quite the proper little _ family holiday _ . All rather  _ Emmerdale Farm _ ,” he beamed. “Bit  _ human _ , I know, but still. Rather fun, don’t you think? Festive!”

Crowley bit his tongue. 

He told himself that it did not sound fun. He told himself that it would not be rather nice. He didn’t like _ Emmerdale Farm _ . He didn’t like festive. He didn’t like  _ fun.  _ This trip was an inconvenience. An imposition. It certainly wasn’t the kind of thing  _ Very Cool Occult Entities _ liked the sound of. It wasn’t  _ cool _ to want proper little family holidays. Probably wasn’t cool to want nothing more than a proper little family,  _ full stop _ , come to think of it.  _ Very Cool Occult Entities  _ wanted things like fast cars, and private jets, and to be surrounded by beautiful, empty people all the time, and to have a Name List of  _ Successful Temptations _ longer than Santa’s  _ Christmas List _ .

No. _ Very Cool Occult Entities _ definitely  _ did not _ secretly quite like the sound of  _ proper little family holiday _ in the South Downs with their  _ sort-of-but-not-really  _ kid and their  _ sort-of-but-not-really  _ husband _. _

Crowley never had been very cool.

Reluctantly dragging his gaze away from his  _ sort-of-but-not-really Husband, _ Crowley turned his attention back to his dishevelled little  _ sort-of-but-really-not-really kid _ , still sitting in a heap on the couch.

“Oi! Tiger food! Come on. Let’s get this stuff in the car some time before Christmas comes and goes. We’ve already told Santa to leave your presents at the South Downs, so get a move on.’

“Santa’s not  _ real _ ,” Warlock said, nonetheless jumping up and stuffing his things back into his rucksack with alacrity.

“Oh, is he not? Who did I bribe to get you that VR Headset, then?”

“ _ Crowley!  _ Shh!”

Crowley grinned and hauled Warlock’s bag over his shoulder.

“Anyone who isn’t in the Bentley within the next thirty second is getting left behind. Got it?”

They had a  _ proper little sort-of-but-not-really family Christmas _ waiting for them, after all.


End file.
